Date: Fri, 13 Jul 2018 11:26:43 +0000 From: revjpgibson@hotmail.com Subject: Sexual adventures 28 & 30 TRUE SEXUAL ADVENTURES By Rev Jesse Penfield Gibson, MDiv, DMin DISCLAINER: The following are based on true experiences. It consists of consensual sexual experiences between consenting adults, including barebacking and other unsafe practices. All episodes are homosexual between gay men. None involve romance of any sort. For the most part they are random encounters. If this offends you, stop reading. If you find homosexuality erotic, I hope you enjoy. Complaints, compliments and comments to revjpgibson@hotmail.com Please remember to donate to Nifty to keep the stories coming TWENTY-NINE Want Company? New Orleans House, Key West My headquarters during Pride. But Pride was over and it was Monday and I was switching over to Island HOuse for the week, which is more my speed anyway. I am less of a party guy than a cruise and fuck guy. So, I got up and, in 72 degrees heat and 90% humidity went jogging. It was basically like home but I suffered through 3 miles anyway, or nearly 3 because I did cut it a bit short. I had to check out by 11 and I planned to go at the last minute because there would be a delay anyway in checking in at the other place. I thought, I would go down to the ittle French creperie down Petronia for breakfast but I honestly had lots of time. Hot and sticky, though, I went to shower off. It was a shared bath room. The other side and I shared a toilet and sink and a fairly large shower. I had not seen him as of yet and really had no expectation that I would when I went to shower. Teeth brushed, I let the water get hot and stepped in. I soaped up and washed off, careful attention to the stinky bits, and was about ready to wash my hair. The door to the shower opened. "Want company?" he said. I wasn't startled. Straight people may not understand the dynamic. If you are at an all male, clothing optional guesthouse, you are on the market sexually. Especially if you are flying solo. Cruising is part of it. It's part of the fun, really. The reason to go there and not stay at the Waldorf. He was my age, give or take but not in bad shape and not bad looking. He was naked, of course. "Absolutely" I said. "Come in" We kiss, our bodies together pressed in the shower, the warm water flowing over us. My dick is getting hard and he is all ready hard. He has nice pubes and the feel of the cock pressed up against me is nice. When I am hard, he drops down to blow me, the water cascadng down on his head. I have no objection to this turn of events. Not at all. Suck away, dude. Shower sex is cool. I had a holiday romance down here once that turned on me fucking my little latin lover in pressed up against the wall of a shower and the Turkish guy that hangs around Island House on Sundays picking up tourists the same thing. And ... and... Love shower sex. He bobs on it and goes down on me and it feels good even though I am aware that we are wasting water. "You wanna go back to my room?" he asks after a while. "Let me wash my hair first" I say. I got plenty of time to play with him. His room is like mine but he has the TV on to some generic crime show. I watch very little TV. We got on the bed and kissed. I'm in better shape and he asks me if I work out. Well, yes. I do. He has a goatee and I like kissing men with facial hair. He goes for my dick first. Open wide and all the way in. That can mean he is a bottom but not necessarily. For instance, I like to suck men off, drink cum, the whole bit and I'm a top. Well. mostly. So you never know. I am queer and I figure a queer needs to suck dick (there was once a cute little Asian twink and his boyfriend on the Blu Q with me and as we bobbed around in the water naked, he said something profound: A fag with a gag reflex is a sad thing. True). I lay back and let him do it. If he is a bottom, that's probably too bad. It's morning and I'm not going to want to cum, so we are probably better off just doing this. The blow job is above average. Lots of tongue, some stroking. Pretty fucking good. The TV is still on but whatever. Porn would have been better and at Island House it would be but it is what it is. A man that came into my shower is sucking my dick. That ain't half bad. I pull him up and kiss, going for his, down between his legs. Big nice balls. Those go in my mouth. He likes it too. His rigid shaft goes in my mouth. All the way in and up and then down again, my tongue swirling and flicking at the sensitive spot. "Ah fuck, that feels good" he says. "Too bad we didn't do this yesterday" Yesterday? Yesterday was an orgy and then I chased after the four twinks in their underwear most of the night without luck. Yeah, I'd have fuck you last night for sure. In theory, 69 in wonderful. You give and receive. Perfect. But I find that often one or the other is in an awkward angle and I am now. We are side by side, hard dicks pointing at each other. I am little taller and I can't really comfortably get the action on his dick I would like. But I am game. I go for it just the same. He's hard and I love dick and you do what you got to do. Tongue bath it. A finger goes to my ass, pressing against the sphincter. He's testing the waters. Seeing if I'll stop him. Turns out I won't. Not playing with the hole. Not with a finger. Not at all. In a way, I'm relieved. I want to have sex with him but I don't want to cum but I get that he does. Him topping works out. He turns me. No more 69 because I haven't stopped him. He pushes my legs back toward my ears and I roll up on my back. His face goes in between my ass cheeks and his tongue goes for the asshole. God, rimming feels good. It really fucking does. I think two men kissing is incredibly hot but let's face it, rimming is hard core queer. "Yeah eat my ass" I say. "Finger fuck me" He licks a finger and slips it in under his tongue and that is good. It would have been better if he had gone for the prostate and massaged it some but I like it anyway. "I want to fuck you with more than my finger" "You got lube?" I ask He doesn't. I duck over to my room. I have plenty. I grab the small bottle of Swiss Navy silicone, a lube better for fucking than wanking in my opinion and dart back. I plop some on my hand and get on my back, reach down and get a finger in my ass. I grease up my chute and massage the prostate a little, just to get the juices flowing. "I don't have a condom" he says "I'm on PReP. Truvada." I say. A bit of history. I lost my virginity young (like prepubescent young) and spent the first part of my teens having an affair with a man in his 30's that I fucked. I lost my anal cherry at 16 to an Army Ranger in the back room of a gay bar I shouldn't have been at anyway. For the next decade I was a bottom mostly and condom use was religious in the age of AIDS. Then came 15 years of not much sex and 12 years ago I started testosterone treatment. Since then I have been mostly a top. And I rarely use condoms and only if the bottom asks. They don't anymore much. He mounts me up missionary. A pillow under my ass, my hips bent and my knees pushed back, I feel him as he goes in. It's not painful. Not at all. It is uncomfortable. A weird fullness. It's a lot of sensation. He pushes all the way in and stops. I wiggle a bit. "Fuck me" I say. It feels better with movement I think. Less like being constipated. "Fuck me" He does. And that feels better. I have to stroke myself to keep hard and then realize it doesn't matter and I probably shouldn't. I have a hair trigger for coming when I get fucked. So I let him go. Still it feels pretty fucking awesome. He speeds up and goes harder and I can tell he is feeling it. It's not all that rhythmic and I suspect he doesn't fuck much but he is now. His face is contorted, with a look of pain on it. The pain of pure pleasure, I know. "Tear that ass up" I say. "Oh God" he gasps. "Oh fuck" "Go for it. Fuck me" Pound, pound, pound. He looks like he will die. Pound, pound, pound. I am feeling good down there but he can barely breathe. Pound, pound, pound. "Oh fuck" he calls out. I can feel the semen in my ass. I can feel his dick twitch. He pulls out, spent. I lay there for a minute. A short minute. "Hey dude, that was cool. I got shit to do before I check out. So, have fun." "Yeah, you too" I think he is disappointed that there isn't more but I do have shit to do. I go and sit on the toilet and push out part of his load and clean my ass up, get dressed and went to the french creperie a couple of blocks down Petronia and come back and get my stuff to hump over to Island House. More fucking to be had there. THIRTY A Trip to the Bijou Island House, Key West I had, in the run up to vacation, thought idly that it would be good if Skip were there. He is, alot. I had met him a couple of times back and we had fucked a couple of times but nothing special, so i hadn't written about it. I just think he is a good guy. He's a couple of years older than me. has had a heart attack and still smokes, has a pacemaker and is not super good looking. But he has personality and enough money to fund his life style and, well, he is generous with his drugs. Pot mostly. Liquid THC, actually. He knows everybody here. Everybody. He knows them and they know him and they will be by to get high while he is here. I lug my crap over to Island House from New Orleans House, walking and regretting it because it is hot and I have packed way too much crap when you consider that I am staying at a place where you don't have to leave to eat or drink and you don't have to wear clothes. As expected, the room wasn't ready and they are holding my bags until it is and I am sitting in the cafe, waiting on a salad when starts to rain. It's one of those tropical things where it'll rain for a little while and then be sunny again. I see him walking toward the bar, wrapped in one of the green and brown sarongs that you get here. "Hey Skip" I say. He stops, looks and then smiles. "My favorite preacher" he says (not really. He used my actual profession). "I forget. Your name is Dennis?" "Jesse" I said. I'm not offended. "I'm terrible at names." "Me too" We actually had dinner that night, prime rib and it was excellent. He caught me up on the gossip (of which there was quite a bit relating to the ownership of Island House). Afterwards, we got high. He's generous. It was liquid THC and was called "Trainwreck". It is aptly named. It may have been that Monday or maybe on Wednesday this happened (Tuesday I flew to the Dry Tortugas to snorkel and I am writing from memory from a month ago). "Fancy a trip to the Bijou?" Skip says, as I drain the last of my rum runner in the pool in the heat of the afternoon. "We can see what's up" I say. We are both naked, of course, and I just grab a towel and we head toward the video lounge. AS I recall, we stopped by my room for lube (for me. He's uncut) and my room was at the base of the stairs. The video lounge was empty. He plops on the bench opposite and I unwisely pick the one on the left. The two monitors I can see easily are playing some porn I'm not terribly interested in and basically I am just waiting there to see if any trouble happens. I get hard because getting hard is what you do. I was about to leave when I hear motion outside in the hallway. Sometimes a guy will come in - and you can hear the pressure change as the door opens and closes - and he will look in and see that he is not interested in what is there and leave. For me, it is bathhouse rules. Don't take rejection personally. YOu weren't what they wanted, at least not right then. You're not being rejected as a person but as a piece of meat. Maybe they are looking for a twink (good luck) and you are a daddy. Basically the way I look at it is that I will get laid plenty. Maybe not now and maybe not with you but it will happen. But this didn't seem like that. He didn't come and peer in through the slats and leave. But after a couple of long minutes - longer than it should have been - I still hear the movement. So I got up and went out, leaving my towel and lube behind. On the main hallway leading to the video lounge there is the remains of the entrance to the old dark space, an open area for anonymous group sex. They have taken that space and put in glory hole booths so that entrance is just a small closet but there is a glory hole to the other side. I open the slats and there he is. He is naked and he is facing toward the glory hole. He is younger than me, shorter than me and as fit. He is prime beef. I get behind him and wrap my arms around his torso. my hard on between his ass cheeks. He pushes back and rubs against me. I turn him around and we kiss. That one time and never again. He drops to his knees and starts to blow me. It is crowded, not nearly enough room to be doing anything. I reflect that I have had an insane amount of sex in cramped spaces -- glory hole booths in video arcades, bathhouse rooms, bathroom stalls, back rooms of cruise bars -- and all of it sleazy as fuck. "That's it. Suck it" I said. He has to be uncomfortable, crouched down and no room. Plus, he didn't come here to drink cum, which is weird because some men are only interested in oral, either giving or receiving. I am more flexible. I go with the flow. AS long as it gets me off. He stands up and points his ass at me, bent over a little and his head in the corner of the room. I could rim him. I could but didn't. I could finger fuck him, massage his button but I didn't. I took my rigid cock and guided myself into his all ready greased up asshole and shoved it in, all the way in. I wiggle and get my footing and then start fucking him. There is not going to be any tenderness today. I put my hands on his hips and go to fucking town on his ass. You can hear our bodies slapping together and the grunts as we fuck. I don't know if he is hard or not. He might be stroking himself but I can't really see. And I don't really care. How he gets off is up to him. I am going to cum in his ass. "Fuck" I grunt as I pound him. He grunts back. He wants it the way I'm giving it. I am almost bent over his, an arm around his torso and my pelvis like a jack hammer. It'll be a mistake to nut. It's early and I'm in my 50's and hard on's are not as easy as they used to be. But I really have little option. I am horned up and fucking a `hot guy in the ass and I will nut. And soon. He doesn't say anything but he bucks back on my dick, trying to get me in deeper, really punish that hole. He wants it. I pound on it. It's hot in there, the air stale and the sweat is pouring off me. I can smell his and my musky scent as our bodies pound together in a primal way. I can only grunt with stabbing stroke of my dick and he moans as I do it. I wanted trouble and here he is. I shoved it in one last time, held my dick there and unloaded in his ass. Spurt after spurt as waves of pure pleasure swept over me. I pulled out spent and stepped through the plastic slats. In the hallway, there was a black guy standing there, lean and fit with a towel around his waist, just standing but not like he was waiting his turn but more cautious than that, like whether he should check out what was happening. He was hot looking. "Go for it" I say as I head back to the video lounge to at least get my lube. The towel is no big deal. I don't mind walking around in broad daylight buck naked with a hard on. Skip is all ready left. I wondered idly whether he heard us as he went past and whether he was proud of me for going after it or jealous. I'll catch up with him later. I probably stood there and watched the porn on the monitor for a minute or so, post orgasmic. I walk past it on the way out and I hear men fucking. He went for it. Cool.